


run when the rhythm's right

by ohbarbara



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, I must be guesting on a Justin Bieber track because I feel Ludacris, no-one matters except Eleanor xoxo, this is the most ridiculous romcom ending ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohbarbara/pseuds/ohbarbara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>part three of a series that began with 'let me be the sunrise of your broken heart' and 'all the other boys try to chase me'</p><p>disclaimer: this is fanfiction ie fiction for fans so do not consider this anything other than fiction nor show it to anyone who isn't a fan, especially not people who know the people in this fic thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	run when the rhythm's right

There was something digging into Eleanor’s back. It had been a very minor annoyance when they’d started but ten minutes in, it was really quite a bother. She elbowed Harry in the ribs, for lack of better social skills. He made a startled noise into her mouth and banged his forehead against hers at the shock. They just stood there rubbing their heads and awkwardly disengaging body parts when Harry ruefully asked, ‘What did I do?’ Eleanor shook her head and turned around to reveal, wow, a fucking broken soap dispenser. Fucking hell. Harry had the worst taste in hookup locations, I mean, the bathroom with the iffy lock at McDonalds? She’d have preferred the Range Rover but she’d heard _gold digger_ too many times to be able to say that out loud.

Harry leaned in again to press a kiss to her lips but she had decided already this wasn’t going to continue.

‘Harry,’ she said, placing her hand on his chest (for mostly professional reasons). ‘What’s the name of the girl who served us?’

‘Uh, Sarah, why?’ he said, looking confused.

‘Can you tell me any salient facts about Sarah?’

‘Uh, her mum’s just gone into hospital because her kidney’s in strife but it’s not serious apparently. It’s just a bit of pain because Sarah’s got to look after her little sister Katie who’s been acting up lately-‘ Harry blathered on.

Eleanor watched as his face lit up. Harry liked people. He liked listening to people. This was all too fucking annoying. She had to get out of here and away from him.

‘Right, let’s go,’ Eleanor said, decisively. ( _Decisively meaning that she sounded decisive; not decisively like she thought it was at all the right decision._ )

‘Go where?’ Harry asked.

‘You’re taking me back to the party and then you’re driving me home,’ she said, straightening his collar (she stroked his little bird wings where they poked out; the amount of fragile winged creatures on Harry's body kept her up at night) and wiping her lipstick off his mouth. She left a little smear, just above his lip. She wanted anyone who saw him to know he belonged to someone.

‘Why?’ Despite the constant barrage of questions, it didn’t particularly seem that Harry was trying to keep her in there. He was as happy buttoning up her dress as he had been taking it off and ever since she’d elbowed him, he hadn’t made any further advances. He just seemed a little dazed.

‘Look, you’re just too fucking nice, okay? It’s really annoying,’ she snapped. She’d tried to soften the gesture by tidying up his hair while saying it but she could still feel him freeze.

‘Oh, okay, yeah,’ he said and he reached out and wiped some lipstick off her cheek.

‘Just take me home,’ Eleanor said in a softer voice and then after a moment added, ‘Please.’

Harry got this strange smile and for a second, Eleanor didn’t recognise it but then, ‘Jesus fucking hell Harry, why have you got the stupid fucking ‘I’m about to make a pretty substandard joke’ face on. Don’t think I don’t recognise it, I have a dad okay and it’s the exact same face. Just make the fucking terrible pun or whatever and let’s go.’

He leaned forward and right against her ear (but not directly into it; no, that wasn’t in Harry Styles’ wheelhouse) he whispered, ‘Take me home,’ and then his whole face split into this gigantic grin and it didn’t exactly stop Eleanor from thinking _shithead_ but it still made her smile.

 

'Ugh, Harry's such a shithead,' Eleanor shouted then flopped down on the bed the second Niall opened the door.

'Hello, Eleanor. So nice to see you,' Niall said but with a grin, to let her know that he wasn't really angry. She appreciated little gestures like that. It was easy to be nice in the big moments but it was very hard to do it all the time. Eleanor had given up on being nice all the time at seven years old so she was impressed with people who manage it.

'I'm sorry, Niall, but your best friend is a shithead.'

'What did he do?' Niall asked. He clearly didn't want to be having this conversation. Eleanor felt a pang of guilt. She'd have to send him something to make up for it lately. But what exactly do you send a teenage millionaire? _Another_ snapback for him to probably give to Zayn as part of their codependent bullshit?

And then of course there was the issue of what exactly did Harry do? He followed her into the bathroom as she'd requested and when she’d kissed him, he’d kissed back, and he didn't stop until she physically assaulted him and told him to take her home. He had made a rather inexcusable joke but he hadn't argued with her. He'd just walked her back to the party then driven her home, without saying a word. He'd even made sure she'd got inside her building before he'd driven away, an action not lost on her.

'He just texts me a lot.' Eleanor said. It was a stupid fucking evasion tactic, but at least it was the truth. (Never mind the fact that he hadn't texted her since she left him when usually by now she'd have fifty Lana Del Rey covers coming out her ears.)

'Look I'm just being an idiot, okay?' and she sat up and patted Niall's arm. He grinned at her and she kissed him. This was easy; simply give and take. Eleanor was 500% sure that they'd never be able to have a relationship (she was tired of dating popstars and he didn't seem to want that kind of complication but there was something perfect in this she couldn't quite shake off).

'Niall, are you okay with this?' she asked after a few moments.

'With what?' he replied.

'This, Niall,' Eleanor said. 'You're helping me cheat on my boyfriend who is one of your best friends, doesn't that bother you?' Niall paused for a moment and she could see all the cogs whirring in his mind. She liked that he didn’t need to protect his feelings.

'The way I see it, see, is like well you're not very happy at the moment and neither is Louis and I think you being sad is making Louis sad and like I'm just trying to make you happy?' Niall pronounced very carefully. 'I think when he's not around, you need someone to care of you, you know.'

Eleanor's chest tightened. Stupid kind boys would be the death of her.

'Oh, Niall, I-' Eleanor started but then Niall interrupted. 'And Harry? He's probably keen on you. He's a complete dickhead whenever he fancies someone and he always picks the most embarrassing and inopportune people to like.' He shrugged and then leant in to kiss her. Classic Niall. Just casually mention that Harry Styles probably fancies me and then shrug. Whatever. I don't need Harry Styles or his stupid fucking texts anyway. (So later, when a text finally came through to her phone, she definitely didn't scramble so fast to get it that she dropped it three times, and when she saw it was just from Liam asking her 'how was the partyyy yesterday i herd it was gooood!!', didn't throw it against the wall and yell 'motherfucker' and never actually replied.) An hour later, a text finally arrived from Harry just saying 'hi'. She typed in 'fuck off' and then clicked send before she could stop herself.

She got a call five minutes later from a blocked number and she answered all ready with a snarl and a 'fucker' on the edge of her tongue but then it was Louis and he was coming home from Doncaster to visit for a few days and he hoped Niall and Harry had been taking care of her and she almost chuckled (no, she didn't chuckle; Harry chuckled; she laughed) but then she took a breath and told him she loved him and she couldn't wait to see him and Niall and Harry had been lovely and she had missed him and she hoped Lottie was keeping up with her maths homework because school's important if you're not in a boyband. Louis laughed at that and he started telling her stories about her school and her friends and what everyone else was up to and she clamped a hand over her mouth to avoid her from saying something to ruin this moment. 'See you tomorrow, babe,' he said as he was hanging up and Eleanor just nodded. Back to autopilot girl.

As it turns out, Harry does not answer his phone calls if you tell him to fuck off so that's a thing. After seven unfruitful attempts ('Hi, you've reached Harry Styles' phone. I'm probably sleeping so just leave me a message and I'll do my best to get back to you. Have a wonderful day!'), she decided to just to go to bed but before she did that, she had to clear his conscience so she texted 'Sorry for being such a shithead today, Niall. I think I know how to make me and Louis happy now. Thanks for listening. I love you.' She went and showered and when she came back, she checked her phone and he'd replied back. 'You're perfect for Harry then, haha.' Fuck.

Eleanor lay awake for an hour, just getting progressively more and more shitty at the world until finally _fuck it_. She took out her phone and scrolled back through all her and Harry's messages (mostly Harry, she noticed guiltily) and finally found the first ever text he'd ever sent her. 'Hi, Eleanor. This is Harry, Louis' friend! Uh, I know this might seem weird but I heard this song that reminded me of you today and I'd asked Lou for your number and he said you wouldn't mind. Anyway, it's called 'Bette Davis Eyes'. Have a lovely day. xx'. She hadn't replied until two days later with just 'Oh hi Harry! It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the song.' God, Eleanor. She couldn't even remember what the song was so she googled it and it was some random thing from the 1980s by someone she'd never heard of. Yeah, Niall. Harry totally secretly loves me. That's why he's texting me random shit from the 80s about dead actresses. Eleanor threw her phone on the dresser and forced herself to go to sleep.

The next morning, Eleanor was panic-eating some corn chips of rather dubious freshness when she heard a knock on the door. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and then walked towards the sound, just remembering to paste on a smile as she entered the front room. ‘Come on, Elephant! We don’t have all day!’ she could hear Louis yelling and her smile grew genuine. He really was a nice person and she really did love him and none of the last week’s events had changed anything about how she felt about him and it was with that in mind that she opened the door and blurted out ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

 

She met up with all of them a few weeks later. Louis had told them all in his own time as he’d requested. They’d decided to provide a united front together though, so that there wasn’t weirdness between them. (Louis had said ‘When you dated me, you dated my friends. I don’t want you to lose that.’ Eleanor had held herself back from ‘Yeah, that was the problem.’) Harry had arrived first and there had been this blissfully awkward moment where he’d said hello to Eleanor first and Louis had had this look like _what the fuck happened here?_ Eleanor wished he’d just asked. She’d just told him that they’d grown apart and she wasn’t happy anymore but she wished she knew what Harry was thinking. Liam arrived next, with Danielle in tow. Eleanor tried to contain her excitement at having someone else there who wasn’t part of the best friends wonder crew. Zayn and Niall arrived last, about ten minutes later, citing parking problems but Eleanor suspected they’d forgotten and then had to rush out of the house. _It’s okay. I don’t have to be a priority anymore._ But Niall smiled at her and she felt like things were going to be okay.

They had a great lunch. Things felt normal and they ate a lot of very nice food and everyone seemed happy. Maybe it was just when they were just back from tour that things were weird. Maybe there was a long term solution here. Eleanor could just be their collective platonic girl friend and things could be like how they were before when Niall would paint her toenails as she painted her fingers, and her and Zayn and Harry would attempt to converse knowledgeably about the latest celebral blockbuster, and Liam and Danielle and Louis would play their nth game of charades which normally ended with her shrieking ‘you’re all crap at this sit down!!’ And Perrie would show up late because she had a gig and she’d still be covered all in all her stage makeup and she’d sit on Zayn’s lap and scoff at how boring they were all being and they’d all get drunk and play Mario Kart and fall asleep together and everything was wonderful. She kept looking at Harry, though, and he kept not looking back. So at the end, she decided to make a gesture.

‘I’ve got an art history presentation in a few weeks and it’s at an actual gallery and all my friends are busy with their coursework and I was just wondering if any of you want to come,’ she said. At the second half of the sentence, she flicked her eyes up to Harry. _You. I want you to come._

Niall and Liam instantly adopted their polite smiles when they’re asked something they don’t want to answer but Zayn smiled and nodded. ‘Yeah, I might come. Get a bit of culture.’

Danielle said she’d have to check her schedule and Louis said he’d check with his family when he was going back to Doncaster but Harry remained silent at the back. Flustered, Eleanor programmed the information for it into Zayn’s phone and tried to give a meaningful look at Harry but he resolutely just stared at his shoes. And then during the ride back to college with Niall and Zayn (Louis had offered to give her a lift but she’d just made an awkward avoidance noise along the lines of ‘we’ve broken up! Don’t drive me places please!’), she asked if Harry was doing all right.

Zayn had laughed slightly and Niall, as best as he could from his position in the front seat, had shot him a ‘shut up’ look.

‘Yeah, Harry’s doing fine. If you’re asking if he still fancies you,’ Zayn in the backseat made a choking noise that he tried to cover with a cough, ‘yep, probably.’

‘That wasn’t what I was asking.’ _Yes it was._ ‘But like what did you mean about him fancying me that other time we talked?’

‘Well, like, he’s not really that good with his words because he’s always trying to think of something funny to say to make people like him so he’s always making people mixtapes and baking them things and suggesting movies to them so that they know, you know?’

‘Yeah, I get it,’ she said, but she didn’t and she couldn’t.

 

The second she got into her building she ran to her bedroom, flopped on her bed, and started scrolling back again. She then made a list of every piece of popular media Harry had recommended to her in their year of knowing each other. As expected, there were some things Eleanor decided had been sent without an agenda – The Amazing Spiderman and The Dark Knight Rises were because her and Perrie and Zayn and Harry had once had a very heated discussion over superheroes and she’d talked about how much she liked Carly Rae Jepsen for an hour once while extremely high so the fact that he’d loved her album was clearly based on that – but what surprised Eleanor was how right he’d been; how most of these things, once she’d encountered them in her daily life, long after she’d forgotten Harry’s recommendation, had been pretty much her taste. Of course it was still very Harry – it seemed he’d sent her every single track from Born to Die and there was a metric ton of acoustic bullshitty fairly homogenous men-whiny stuff. But it was the names she didn’t recognise she started looking up – beginning with Bette Davis Eyes.

She finished her research around two a.m. when it had become fairly clear that Harry’s perception of her was this terribly glamorous femme fatale figure that was super cool and so far above everyone else and she snorted. She was still in her clothes from earlier and she had a corn chip in her bra and she was exceptionally drunk on stale pink Franzia she’d found in her fridge. _She’ll tease you; she’ll unease you._ Did he think this was all a game to her? She fell asleep shortly after and when we woke up, it was with the words of one of the songs on her tongue: _Just us, you find out nothing that we don’t want to tell you about._

The night of the presentation Eleanor danced around her room and picked something that said ‘potential wife of either a rapper or a senator because I’m not picky nor classist but I do dress really nice so just saying’. She was looking forward to giving her presentation because she’d worked so hard on her proposal but also because she’d be seeing the boys and hopefully, hopefully Harry would be there and she’d be able to say ‘I’m sorry for ignoring you. I just thought you were annoying but I don’t think that anymore because you’re actually quite thoughtful and your taste in music is nice and I like that you like me because attention is my favourite thing ever so let’s fuck’. She arrived at the gallery on time and she was practising her speech for the umpteenth time when Louis arrived. She hugged him for about two minutes before she could properly let go because she was just so glad there was someone there who she could be sure wasn’t actively willing her to fail. It wasn’t that Eleanor didn’t like strangers; it was that she just didn’t trust them. Zayn turned up only a few minutes late, bringing a very nice bottle of wine from Perrie because she couldn’t come. She hugged him for an uncomfortable amount of time too, to the point where Louis was coughing and making a show of being jealous. She loved them now. It’d taken literally a year and a lot of really shitty text messages to her friends back home about the psychology of codependence but she finally loved them.

‘Where’s Harry?’ she asked, beaming.

‘Oh, he’s not coming,’ Zayn said and shrugged. Her heart sank. She’d always thought people talking about actual physical reactions to emotional things were being ridiculous but her heart literally felt like it’d moved, like it’d just left her.

‘Oh cool, okay. Well, enjoy the night, Zayn! I’m really glad you’ve come.’

 

‘Open up, shithead!’ Eleanor yelled. She maybe drank that whole bottle of wine on the taxi ride here and she’s feeling cocky and it’s definitely the wine that’s got her standing outside Harry’s ridiculously large house at 11pm and not this gnawing thought of _why don’t you like me anymore?_

There’s a very large crash (I hope he fell, she thinks meanly) and then there’s the sound of running feet and then there’s Harry Styles in his pants holding the front door ajar, looking gratifyingly horrible.

‘You didn’t come,’ she spat out and rushed past him to throw herself on the couch in his front room. She was feeling a little unsteady and utterly pissed and she needed to lie down.

Harry shrugged, closed the door, and then lifted up her legs to place on his lap on the couch. ‘You would make a horrible vampire.’

‘What?’

‘Vampires have to be invited in,’ Harry said, as if it was the most natural thing to do to start conversing amiably about vampires with someone you are clearly in a fight with.

Eleanor just stared at him, hopefully with venom, but more likely an unfocused slightly irritation. He was so awful. He was the most awful person she’d ever fancied and she’d dated someone who’d told her to try to be taller.

‘Fuck the vampires. We’re in a fight. You were meant to come to my thing tonight and you didn’t.’ She was okay with desperation now. She just needed him.

‘I didn’t know that you wanted me to.’

‘Well, I did.’

‘Well, okay. You could have told me that. You know, I’m not psychic. Niall told me to stop bothering you so much and I stopped, okay? I thought this was what you wanted so stop yelling at me all the time.’ It was all said very calmly (Harry only yelled when he was excited) but it was clear he was bothered.

Eleanor couldn’t handle honesty and sincerity while drunk so she just got up and left. Harry drove her home, shirtless and sleepy and probably quite annoyed and she took the opportunity to memorise those birds she’d probably never see in person again as she sat slumped, weighed down by the words she still didn’t know how to say. He walked her to her door and then he stood outside while she undressed but he wished her a good night and gave her pain killers and water.

 

She woke up feeling really shitty like literally first year mid-semester break hungover where she’d start drinking at 2 in the afternoon and just keep on until she passed out.

She drove over to where Louis was staying. She needed to talk to someone who would yell at her properly for being an idiot. Liam would just get really uncomfortable and Niall wouldn’t be able to do it and Zayn would probably just laugh and tell her she’s fine.

She knocked this time. She didn’t want to risk him having someone over and there being an awkward conversation about post break-up sex etiquette.

Luckily, Louis was home (Eleanor probably needed to start calling people before she came over) and he seemed extremely pleased to see her. He ushered her in and made her a cup of tea and offered her a biscuit and Eleanor was starting to think he was being entirely too nice when he broadly smiled and asked, very sweetly, ‘So what did you do to Harry?’ _Oh._

‘Nothing?’ she said and cringed when she heard the question mark at the end. _Great lie. Simply killer._

‘He’s been taking sadness baths twice a week for the last month. He’s used all Liam’s nice soap and now he’s using all mine. He’s starting to look like human Braille, he’s so pruny.’

‘What the fuck is a sadness bath?’ Harry Styles: Tragic Figure was a bit hard for Eleanor to understand, considering his millions and cars and great hair and very nice teeth.

‘You know what a sadness bath is, surely, Eleanor. You know when you were little and you were really sad and your brothers and sisters would run a really nice bath for you with all nice smelly stuff and bubbles and they’d wash your hair and tell you everything was going to be okay?’

‘Your family is the grossest, oh my god,’ Eleanor said. ‘Why is Harry taking sadness baths?’

‘Because he said he did something bad to you and he feels guilty and he’s not very good about talking about his feelings so could you go upstairs and get him out of that bathtub before he turns into an actual sponge and say you forgive him for whatever terrible thing he did to you?’ Louis asked and smiled that ‘this is not a negotiation’ smile Eleanor always thought would come in handy as the leader of a revolution or a gang.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m taking the tea though. The tea better not be a trick.’

 

‘Harry I’m coming in you better not be masturbating,’ she said all in a rush as she opened the door to the bathroom. She actually wouldn’t mind watching Harry masturbating but that’s hardly material at this stage.

Harry instantly popped up his head and mock-scandalised said ‘what if I had?’

‘Well, you know, my bucket list would be further on its road to completion so ultimately a win in my opinion,’ Eleanor replied and she traced the birds on his chest with her fingers. ‘These are nice.’

Harry stiffened. ‘Thanks.’

‘I think you’re nice too,’ she said. ‘If possible, you’ve even nicer than your very nice birds.’

‘Don’t they annoy you?’ he asked evenly but the way he looked at her made it obvious her response mattered.

‘No, of course not. I love them,’ she said and she leant down to kiss first the left, then the right then Harry’s forehead.

‘You love them?’ Harry looked suspicious and she wanted to scream ‘this isn’t a fucking game, not anymore’.

‘Yes, I always have. Why so many questions?’ she said and the little twitchy smile she’d been holding in burst out into a grin. The corners of Harry’s mouth turned up slightly and she wanted to prod him right in the dimple.

‘Inquiring minds want to know,’ Harry said. ‘Since when?’

‘Since I met them.’ She was risking something with this one; this went beyond plausible deniability.

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Neither did I.’

‘One more question. Are we talking about birds?’

‘No. Why?’

 

A week later they left on tour. Eleanor had spent the last night on the phone with Niall just talking. She was pleased there were no hurt feelings; no awkwardness. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to Harry that would clarify things entirely so she got up at four a.m. where he’d just be getting on the plane and she sent him a text with a link to Call Me Maybe and only one sentence: ‘I love you and I don’t have anything particularly profound to say about that.’

‘Maybe you should have read more of the Wikipedia article,’ Harry sent back a minute later and then her phone pinged with a tweet alert: ‘@Harry_Styles: I just fucking love Call Me Maybe’.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm finally finished with this story thread, praise Jesus. I made a list of songs Harry would have sent to Eleanor in this so if you're interested in the full list, just hit me up in the comments.


End file.
